Another Time
by SaberTail FairyTooth
Summary: Sometimes, the one you would take a bullet for is the one behind the trigger. But, for these teens-kids, really-you just lead them to their deaths. Somewhat inspired by the Boy in the Striped Pajamas. But, do you really want it to end like TBINSP? Set during the Holocaust. Not meant to offend. Flames accepted. I do not own Fairy Tail.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! This fan fiction will involve WWI, Fairy Tail style. I don't mean anything I might write, I have nothing against any race, nor religion at all. Please do not get offended. By the way, flames are accepted. Criticism helps make everything better :)

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><p><em><strong>"Sometimes, the one you would take a bullet for is behind the trigger." <strong>_ _**And other times, you just lead them to their death.**_

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><p>Erza Scarlet, 3rd Person<p>

She had seen _it_. Seen _it_ with her good eye, clear as day, though all she had to see by was the small fire that flickered, time and time again, struggling to stay alive. Just like her fellow prisoners. She had heard _it, _too. The low baritone of _it's_ voice echoing off the empty room while discussing matters she didn't understand. The voice was void of emotion, just like her feelings toward _it. It _was not worth her time to abhor. _It_ wasn't worth feelings at all. The _'thing' _had **blue** hair, though she couldn't comment, she had a crimson mane herself. That _thing _also had crimson. Crimson hands, soiled by the priceless deaths of millions. Deaths that had been caused by_ it. _The _thing_ also had a crimson tattoo, ornamenting _it's_ face from _it's_ forehead (Though she couldn't imagine what that forehead contained. Knowledge and a brain were certainly not in that forehead. Nor was the concept of ethics, apparently.) to the apple of _it's_ cheek. The tattoo was not the swastika of allegiance she had become familiar with, it was very elaborate, a swirl of designs, she couldn't begin to describe it, she didn't know where to start. How it curved, ever so slightly, with his cheek? Or maybe the simple, yet startling, line that cut through his cheek like the wooden katanas she used to play with, a major part of her short, but happy childhood. But, his eyes startled her. They were so _serious. _Even more so than Grey-a part of her surrogate family's- cold eyes. They were a hunter's trap for a deer. Enticing, like a snake luring a hummingbird in. And CHOMP! The bird was gone, like it never existed. That would be her someday. Sooner or later. She had heard rumors, of the _Konzentration felder_'s way of making people disappear. Like the humming bird. Like she never existed.

Though he wasn't the man fueling the war, he was certainly a big part of it. Part of the organization that would someday kill her, just like it did to her biological family. They died by _'biological means'. _She still remembered the terror in her mother's eyes as recognition struck. She remembered her father, screaming at her to run. That was all she remembered of them. Because she had only come in contact with it for a split second before running away with desperation, the gases had gave her short term memory loss. But it was better than what her parents got out of it.

_FERNANDES... Traitor._

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><p>Jellal Fernandes, 3rd Person<p>

Erza thought she was hidden from view, in the shadows, where darkness lurked-_where he should be-_though the minuscule flame valiantly fought against it. Her scarlet hair was a dead giveaway, along with the sharp breaths she drew, _Most likely to calm herself down,_ he mused. Jellal couldn't blame her, he could be a beast at times, preying upon the weak and helpless. Clearing his head, he decided to act like she wasn't there, toying with the girl-the young woman, really, her eye held much more wisdom than a person of her age. Unconsciously-he didn't even know he was analyzing scenarios- he began imagining scenarios, what would she do if he did _this-_

He stood up quickly, and began _pacing_. His path was random, choosing to step in one direction, slide, move in a circle. Jellal began to fall into step, waltzing, like he would at the extravagant political parties that covered up the real things that took place- treaties, alliances, and promises were all made and broken, a never-ending circle. He danced, to a tune no one had heard, it had been banished. But his memories were sharp. He twirled around nothing. His hands were up in all the right places, but there wasn't a place for them to rest upon. He didn't care. He dipped to the _diminuendo_ of the valse in his head. It was an unusually fast valse, yet he kept up, the simple footwork making a beat. PITTER patter patter, PITTER patter patter. He continued even after he heard the soft, uneven, pitter-patter of another pair of feet, then slowly fade into nothingness, yet again. It was the most refreshing thing he had done in an era. He pondered, '_What would she think of that?'_

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><p>Erza, 3rd Person<p>

He was _dancing. _Or waltzing, to be precise. The movement of his body entrapped her, she stood, paralyzed, listening to the sharp beat his shoes made. She knew the song, she knew the surprises and the _diminuendo_s and where it maintained a _sostenuto _beat, then where the song would glide down a series of chromatic steps, ornamented with a overlapping harmony. it was the one her father was put in the _konzentration felder_ for. And so, her family was also caught up in his conflict. Once the beat began to slow, to _ritardando, _she ran back to the minuscule shack that was the slave quarters of this _felder. _Slowly opening the door, pulling it up at one point, to avoid unnecessary _cccrrreeeaaak_s. She didn't want another day without food, courtesy of the 'supreme' overseers. She didn't know how much longer she could go without it.

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><p>As she laid in her designated sleeping area (it was a small patch of land that was unusable, really), she wondered, <em>When did I begin to call him a <strong>him<strong> and think of **him** as a **human**?_

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><p>Lucy Heartfilia, 1st Person<p>

As my personal handmaiden, Mrs. Spetto arrived with multiple suitcases holding her belongings, while Ribbon McGarden, the Heartfilia Konzern's librarian, lugged a few _carts, _full of books, with Levy, his daughter trailing behind him to ensure that no novels would fall out of the carts. Aed carried his kitchen supplies while attempting to shout orders,_"Bring the pans to me!" "No, not those!" "The china should have already been packed!"  
><em>

I handed my suitcases, full of everything I would ever need, to Zoldeo, and hoisted myself into a plush, pillow-y seat of the well-to-do-looking carriage. It was almost double the length of a middle-class carriage, to ensure my possessions, along with my father's, were able to safely fit. Or at least, part of our possessions. The decorative paintings and other ornamental goods were to be moved in another cart. Magnolia's outskirts was a two hour ride from the Heartfilia Konzern's land. This trip was accompanied by only Mrs. Spetto, my father would be travelling on a jet plane to Magnolia, later this week, to attend a meeting with Mr. Ivan Dreyer, an influential businessman whose main source of profit were the_ felder_, before riding a carriage to the place where we would be residing for who-knows-how-long. I yawned, allowing myself to take a small nap.

It may have been the quality of the bumpy ride, but jostling soon awoke me. My eyelids fluttered before fully opening, a yawn half escaped my mouth before I managed to daintily cover it up with a hand. I stretched my unused joints, hearing multiple 'pop!'s, before changing to a stiffer, upright posture that was expected of a lady of high standards. The ride may be nearing it's end, which meant people may see me exiting. Therefore, I made sure to look decent before turning my head towards the glossy window to look at the scenery outside, which was playing on a continuous loop of grass, wildflowers, and cows. An untainted piece of land, which was rare in the world I lived in. It seems industrialization had not yet taken hold of this land. Mostly. The fact that there was a pathway, no matter how un-maintained, for carriages to drive upon meant industrialization was well under way.

3rd Person,

Gears that soundlessly worked together under the ground Lucy rode upon began to move, unbeknownst to her. Steam was released from a small opening. Poisonous gases began seeping into a confined room, filled with a handful of the Jewish.

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><p>Natsu Dragneel, 3rd Person<p>

Natsu laboriously thought, aiming to best his frienemy, Grey Fullbuster, in anything he could, ranging from footraces to math problems, etched into the un-fertile ground they lived upon. This time, it was seeing how far they could push the overseers before they snapped.

_"Yo, Ivan!"_

_"It's Mr. Dreyer, to you, child!" _The overseer barked back.

_"So, how 'bout shaving that hair? If you were bald, then nobody would notice that you're beginning to bald!"_ Natsu taunted, smiling at his own logic. He was so smart sometimes...

_"Stupid kid."_

_"What was that, you piece of shit?"_

_"What'd you just call me?"_

_"A turd. Duh. Are you deaf as well as balding? That's unattractive, you know."  
><em>

**SMACK! **Ivan's whip sharply hit Natsu's back, which was protected by nothing but rags. Just another wound that would soon scab over, then scar, adding to the vast collection already present on his back.

Inwardly, Natsu smiled. 30 seconds._ New record_. The more taunting he did, the less work the overseer would order the other children-he would do all the chores, if he could, so that the other kids were happier than their present state.

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><p>Grey Fullbuster, 3rd Person<p>

_"Excuse me, Nullpudding, sir." _Grey started out.

_"Whaddya want, runt?"_

_"I was just wondering, sir," _Grey dragged out, attempting to prolong his time. Nullpudding's eye began to twitch._ "How is your stomach so large? I mean, you can't be pregnant, so I don't see why you and your stomach have to take up so much space..." _He pretended to ponder, looking away, but still catching, out of the corner of his eye, the fist that Nullpudding was raising over him_." Perhaps they are interconnected and you have a Siamese twin? Then you could pass an excuse for taking up so much space! You should use that excuse, sir. Just a recommendation, sir." _

**BAM! **Nullpudding's large fist connected with Grey's jaw, the rock-hard fist would've hit his forehead and potentially knocked him into a coma, had he not ducked. 30 seconds. He surely beat Natsu with_ this_ time.

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><p>Unbeknownst to the 2 boys, gears began to move. Gears that resulted in the death of their parents. Gears that may, someday, kill them, too.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Just to clear up any confusion:

**Valse**- the German way of saying waltz. Ws are pronounced like Vs and Bs like Ws.

**Sostenuto- **(to) sustain

**Legato- **smooth(ly)

**Pfeiffer- **a small piano company based in Germany. Most of the big names originated in London or the U.S., but since this takes place in a Fiore-ized Germany, pfeiffer it is! Fun fact: Pfeiffer is also the name of a type of cookie/snack.

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><p><em><strong>"Sometimes, the people you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger." Other times, you just lead them to their deaths.<strong>_

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><p>Erza Scarlet, 3rd Person<p>

She had went to see _it_ again. Erza didn't know what compelled her to do so. Yet, she risked it, and her legs mechanically moved, into a hallway, and behind a pillar, near it's door. Just like last time, she made sure she was hidden, taking comfort in the shadows that surrounded her. Shadows, the very thing she used to fear, now comforted her. Erza blinked. she had changed alot in the past few months. She had matured, to an adult, witnessing horrors most adults never have, and never will.

This time, _it_ had a piano, a black Pfeiffer baby grand, with a shiny lacquer coat, just like a mini concert grand. How she yearned to touch a key, to see how it felt! _It_, sensing that she was there, began playing,_ their_ piece-her father's piece, really-the Minute Valse, by Chopin. And so, he_ played. _His left hand danced along the keys, staccato-ing most notes, flying here and there, accompanying the _legato_ melody of the right hand, accenting the first beat, the strong beat.

_Just like how the officials favored the strong and unoriginal. Brute power was always accented, threatening the other countries._

_He _finished, pressing the rightmost pedal, the_ sostenuto _pedal, to lengthen the ending notes. Fernandes spoke up, voice full of intent, as if he was about to tell her the secret to life, **"You owe me now."**

Her eyes widened, eyebrows raising in surprise, taking this in. She could imagine the smirk gracing his lips. And so she fled, to her shack, yet again. But they both knew she would be there the next night, and the night afterwards. Once she started, she couldn't imagine _not_ listening to her father's tune, an arranged version of Chopin's Minute Valse, filled with _arpeggios_, swelling with emotions, before dying down into a quiet sigh described by a flurry of notes.

Once again, laying on the cold ground, in nothing but rags, she wondered, _Why did I call _it_ a _he_? Again!_

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><p>Lucy Heartfilia, 3rd Person<p>

During Lucy's carriage ride, while she was asleep, a memory, dusted with time, was remembered.

Layla's voice came out of no where, **"People will rain on your parade because they are envious of your sun and tired of their own shade. Share your sun with everyone, never mind their status, or the amount of influence they have. Remember, not all are as fortunate as you, my dear."**With that being said, her eyes closed. Forever more.

Her eyes fluttered open, her mother's words echoing in her head. _Why had that epiphany suddenly come? Why now? Why had she never remembered her mother's last words until now? WHY? _Frustrated at the lack of answers she got back, she sighed. The carriage halted. Time for her facade. But, she had a feeling what had mother told her would change her, for the better.

Lucy ventured, out of the carriage, stepping on to the short path that lead to her new home. Walking up to the door, she pulled it open before the driver of the carriage could, ignoring him with a simple wave of her hand. Now, immediately after remembering Mama's last words, she preferred to do things on her own. That was how Mama had taught her. That was how she would stay, independent, forever more. She was not dependent on a husband-though she had given much thought on her future matrimony-she would never sit around, smiling when directed. She was not a shining trophy, to be shown to admiring guests, with envy in their eyes.

_She was a porcelain doll, with a cracked smile, and lackluster eyes. She was capable of cracking. But she was also capable of becoming tougher._ If_ she had the glue to do it._

On her trek to the main door of the house, she noticed a tire swing, being held up by a tree. She smiled softly, perhaps her father had remembered some of her childhood past times, besides mandatory studying and reading. Or, maybe, the tire swing was brought to the house by an observant servant. Her smile vanished at the thought.

Lucy began exploring the house, starting with the main hallway. The hall was adorned with one large chandelier, with many smaller ones near it, spaced out evenly. There were two or three doors, all closed, leading to other rooms.

**"The hall also connects to a spiraling stairwell** **(because those are the best types) that leads to the servant headquarters and her room."** That was all she was informed, from a grinning Ribbon-san.

During her expedition, she found out that one door lead to her father's secretary/assistant's counting house and another to her father's office. At the end of the hall was a kitchen, dining room and ballroom. The staircase lead to yet another hall, which was connected more doors, one for her, another for the servants, and plenty more bedrooms, for the occasional guest(s). In her room was a balcony, which gave her a ethereal view of the woods behind and surrounding her new house (she couldn't quite call it her home). Placing her hands on the railing of the balcony, she noticed smoke, coming out of thin air (or so it seemed). But she knew, where there was smoke, there must be fire. And fire meant civilization! There were other humans here, too, besides the servants that tended to her every need. Maybe, just maybe, there were other kids besides her, kids her age that she could interact with! She hurried down stairs, sliding her hand down the curling railing of the staircase, to tell her father the good news. Nearly bumping into him, she joyously informed him,**"Father, there are other people in this area, that means there may be kids-"**

**"Children."** He corrected,**"Kids are young goats. Precision of language matters, using the common tongue will only have other people of _our_ status look down upon you, and the family name."**

_Blah, blah, blah, the family name, yada, yada, yada. _**"Right, children,"** Lucy amended, pretending as if her thoughts had not been rebellious and disagreed with one of her father's life principles, **"There may be other children here, Father!"**

**"What people do you speak of? There is only us living in this area, along with the guards that you will meet, shortly."** The imposing father in question said, rather brusquely.

**"And servants, Father."** Lucy reminded.

**"Yes, and the servants."**

**"Anyways, Father, there was smoke-"**

**"Enough of this childish nonsense. There are no humans besides the residents of the Heartfilia manor."** Jude made a mental note to tighten the security measures around the mansion. _Lucy shall never know of the real world, but ignorance is bliss._

Annoyed by her father's harsh manner and tone, she turned around, walking back to her room.

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><p>Once comfortably situated on her canopy bed, she reached for a unpacked book, hoping to lose herself in the plot. But, today was not her day. A knock sounded on her door, resonating in her empty room. She sighed.<p>

**"Come in."**

**"Hime, I apologize if I may have disturbed you. You may punish me-"**

**"But-"**

**"Your father, Mr. Heartfilia, has requested for you to dress up, instead of wearing your 'commoner's clothes', as he puts it."** Virgo stated.

Lucy looked down, she was wearing simple black pants, and a simple white shirt, to accompany it.

Virgo continued,**"Master has made clear that you are to wear a dress, not that 'monstrous mutation' from last time. There will be high-ranked militia here, to socialize and discuss... political matters, hime. What dress would you like to wear? Or should I be punished?" **Virgo raised two dresses, a green one made of silk, that could rival the most shined of emeralds, and a pink dress, ornamented with frills and lace and had a matching collar.

Thinking quickly, her eyes flitted to the first dress she saw.**"Perhaps the pink one, with the fancy ruffles and such?" **she suggested.

**"Of course, hime. Does this deserve punishment?"**

Lucy sighed as Virgo began prepping her for the _small gathering_.

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><p><strong>Approximately 20:05 p.m.:<strong>

The first of the ostentatious guests had arrived, fashionably late by 5 minutes, a lady, probably one of high stature, holding on to a leather clutch, with a nasty smirk on face. Her raven hair was done into buns with parts left down, her make-up replicating a geishas, and her _dress! _It could almost be called promiscuous! A slit went up her thigh, far too high to support the innocent face she made to her father, Mr. Jiemma Orlando, who was making an appearance as one of the 18 war commanders of the Yakuma clan, while discussing matters in a low voice, before immediately silencing as Jude and Lucy approached the pair. She flashed a fake, cold, smile at Lucy-it was more of a polite sneer-before turning her voice sugary sweet,

**"Hello, Mr. Heartfilia, sir, thank you for inviting my father and me to your gathering."**

Her father began revealing his intent for attending,**"There will be a.."** he glanced at Lucy and Minerva,** "private meeting for the generals, yes?"**

Jude nodded in confirmation before speaking so low Lucy had to strain to hear **"Rendezvous point, at 9:00."**

Jiemma disappeared into the flow of people arriving, Minerva following behind like a house pet.

**"Lucy," **_Am I supposed to snap to attention? _**"Please greet the guests and make sure the valets are doing their job." **_Sir, yes sir! _She merely nodded.

Lucy began to greet the flurry of people arriving as her father directed,

**"Hello, welcome to the Heartfilia manor." **She began, greeting the higher-up, that her father constantly slandered. He acknowledged her with a curt nod.

**"Hello, the servants are handing out drinks-feel free to grab as many as you'd like."** she said, to Gildarts, one of her father's more boisterous co-workers, with an affinity for alcohol.

**"Pleasure seeing you here, the Heartfilias welcome you."**

**"My pleasure, m'lady. My name is Sting, Sting Eucliffe." **a particularly flirtatious lieutenant replied, winking. He was her father's protege, and was trained to become a fine businessman, like Jude Heartfilia, though he worked in the military. Sting dressed in a daring cropped top, with gloves and a fur lined coat. Lucy did not dare look down further than his chest, she might faint.

**"My name is-"**

**"I already know your name, m'lady," **_Rude._

**"Rumors of your beauty have spread far and wide, but none compare to your_ true_ beauty." **He smiled, seeming like he had repeated those words, many times before. Lucy decided to speak her mind.

**"It seems as if you have rehearsed those lines, many times before, Mr. Eucliffe." **_Was it wrong that she liked the attention?_

**"Indeed, I have." **He stated, plainly. _Is he not bothering to hide his inner player? _**"****I've been thinking about how to capture your attention, as soon as I was informed that I was to meet you."** Sting began blushing_. Not bad..._

**"Well you have certainly achieved your goal, Mr. Eucliffe. I'll be looking forward to seeing you soon- I must be attending to the other guests." **

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><p><strong>At approximately 21:00 p.m.:<strong>

Lucy slyly followed Sting, bare-foot as to not make a sound. _Why was this meeting so.. private? In the middle of a party?_

She went upstairs, while Sting went outside. Lucy would eavesdrop by sitting in the balcony of her room.

**"- let your brat see what's happening so close to her living spaces." **This wasJiemma's voice.

**"Of course." **_Father?! _**"The woods will obscure her vision from the camp. Reduce the smoke. She has already noticed it." **_Camp?!_

**"Perceptive." **_Did Jiemma actually compliment me? _**"That will not be helpful in her search for a husband."  
><strong>

It seems like her assumption was wrong. Why did it bother her that her father not defend her?

**"I could be her husband." **_Eucliffe?!_

**"I have already arranged that." **_Father?!_

**"Score!" **-.-''

She ran back downstairs, putting on her heels during her descent. Tomorrow, she would find the camp. Tomorrow. As of now, she had to attend to the guests.

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><p>AN: I'm sorry I haven't gotten to Natsu and Lucy's meeting yet, that will most likely happen in a chapter from now. I noticed the Lucy-centric chapter made her mind change a little quickly- I wanted her to change, before she met Natsu, and I'm sorry if the development happened to quickly. Ah! I say sorry too much (sorry). Anyways, I recently joined the **Review Revolution.** If interested, go to my short bio for the pledge.

HAPPY NEW YEARS!

FELIZ ANOS NUEVOS!

新年快乐！

Bonne année!

Akemashite Omedetou Gozaimasu!

I only speak Chinese, English, and Spanish, so I apologize if my other translations are wrong.

Ciao!


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